Italian Summer
by Julyatha
Summary: Sparks fly when Connor travels to Rome. Can he and Dawn overcome their origins? Can they discover a place in the world together?
1. Summer Abroad

Connor tapped his pencil. He scratched his wrist. He pushed his hair behind his ear, and tapped his pencil again.

Something was not right, and for once he actually knew what it was. Him. Somehow, knowing wasn't as reassuring as he'd thought it would be.

A spot between his shoulderblades itched and his leg muscles felt strangely tight, as if they were begging to be used.

He tapped his pencil again, and pretended to take notes. What class was this, anyway? He looked at the book on his desk: Henry James. Was it Thursday already?

The girl in front of him was talking. "When the cell undergoes meiosis, the state of its environment can greatly affect..." Not English class, then. He reached out and picked up _Daisy Miller_ from the desk and slipped it back in his bag as unobtrusively as possible.

..o0O0o..

"Man, what was up with you in there?" Hopkins' shoulder collided with his on their way out of the classroom.

"Just a little out of it, I guess."

In the hallway, they were joined by another guy, his hair rumpled as though he'd rolled out of bed and right into class. "Late night, Reilly? We almost lost you there."

Hopkins jumped to his defense. "This coming from you, Griffiths? Mr. Sleeps-Through-Class himself?"

"Hey, if I noticed it you know it's bad." Griffiths swung a brotherly arm around Connor's shoulders. "Let me tell you a little something about discretion, pledge..."

Hopkins laughed loudly at this and even Connor choked out a chuckle. They walked across campus, heading for the fraternity house and lunch. Connor was happy to stay quiet and let the others talk -- his head still felt clouded with other thoughts.

After a macaroni and cheese lunch that he barely tasted and a conversation that he hardly remembered, Connor picked up his backpack. One of the other pledges, Gonzo, was waiting for him by the door. Connor shook his head as he approached.

"I'm gonna have to skip out on psych today, man." Griffiths' earlier suggestion was convenient, so he used it. "Late night last night -- I gotta sleep it off."

Gonzo grinned and nodded. "We've all been there. I'll get you the notes."

Connor thanked him and headed up the hill to his dorm. He had no intention of sleeping, but he did want to drop off his books.

The dorm was a big building, covered in rough white stucco and topped off with red tile. There was a broad flight of four steps leading up to the main entrance, where people liked to sit and smoke cigarettes at night. When Connor approached, they were empty except for one girl, talking on a cell phone and drinking a diet soda. From her tone of voice, it was obvious that she was talking to her boyfriend. Connor walked quickly up the wheelchair ramp at the edge of the stairs, trying to act like he couldn't hear her conversation, and waved his student ID card across the electronic access pad at the doorway.

Inside, there was a large lobby with battered couches and a few potted plants. Through an open door, he could hear the quiet sounds of pool balls colliding. One whole wall was taken up with a bulletin board, covered with notices of club meetings and frat parties, Chinese delivery menus and sociology studies looking for participants. And there, right in the middle of a thousand other things, was a glossy flier with photos of crowded piazzas, marble statues, and a large, airy museum. _SUMMER ABROAD IN ROME_, it said. _Be a part of it!_ His attention captured, Connor turned and looked at the flier. There would be a meeting for interested participants that night, it said.

He pulled out the thumbtack and took the flier with him. Rome. That sounded good. Anywhere would be better than here, anyway.

..o0O0o..

They sat down to dinner and Buffy dug in to the pasta that Dawn had made, chewing enthusiastically. Dawn held her fork suspended in midair, and drew in a deep breath before asking her question.

"I was thinking about getting a job for the summer," she said cautiously.

Buffy looked up, her mouth full of pasta. "Ra rob?" she asked, sounding remarkably like a talking cartoon dog.

With difficulty, she swallowed and looked up at Dawn with narrowed eyes. "What kind of job? Nothing demony, I hope."

Dawn smiled at the protective tone in her sister's voice. "No, thanks. I get enough of the demony at home." She'd expected this exact objection from Buffy, so it was easy to deflect. "I was thinking of something demon-free, actually. Like... a tour guide."

"Tour guide?" Buffy seemed to be considering the idea, which was a step in the right direction as far as Dawn was concerned. "What about--"

"I'll still be able to keep up with everything Giles needs," Dawn assured her, before she could even formulate the whole sentence. "He doesn't need me that often, and this would just be part time anyway." That was the second objection that Dawn had been anticipating-- time for slayer-related stuff. But that was her whole list. Buffy still looked unsure, and Dawn didn't know what else to expect.

"You'll still have time for--" Buffy began, then bit her lip. Dawn couldn't think of the last time she'd seen her take-charge sister looking so hesitant. "I mean, you can do what you want to-- should do what you want to, but what about our girl time?" She finally got the last words out in a rush, looking down at her pasta.

Dawn let out a deep breath she didn't realize she'd been holding and jumped up from her seat to give her sister a hug.

"Of course we'll still have girl time," she said. "It'll be very part-time, you can catch up on your sleep while I'm gone after those late-night patrols, and besides--" this was her last, best argument for Buffy-- "It'll be something non-vamp related for me to put on my resume."

Buffy smiled happily up at her at this suggestion, and Dawn felt a twinge of guilt for using her sister's weak spot like this, but it was for a good cause.

Buffy was the Chosen One, and so she'd never had a choice of her own-- fighting evil was her one and only career path. She was bound and determined that her sister would not be forced into the same kind of life. She wanted Dawn to have the options she'd never get.

Dawn knew that -- more than that, she understood it clearly every time she looked into her sister's face. But she couldn't help it. She'd been a part of the fight for years already-- truth be told, it was as long as she'd been on the planet-- and she wasn't about to back out of it now, no matter how much her sister wanted her to live a "normal life."

After dinner, Dawn retreated to her bedroom. Outside the sun had just set and the sky was fading to purple. A crescent moon was visible through the window, above the rooftops of the city. Dawn sat down at her desk and pulled two forms from the drawer. One was an application to an American tour company -- the job she'd told Buffy about. The other was an application to access the personal libraries of the Società Quinquatria, which were rumored to contain demonographies dating back hundreds of years.

This summer was going to be great -- meeting people, exploring the city, and proving her worth to Giles and Buffy besides. Dawn signed both forms with a flourish and slipped them into her bag.


	2. A First Meeting

The dormitory where they were staying was just that: a dorm. On the inside, it looked pretty much like Connor's dorm at Stanford. Bare white walls, mass-produced furniture, stained carpeting. The one difference was that here, he had a room to himself. Which was good, since his old roommate hadn't been too pleased with Connor's tendency to wake up screaming in the middle of the night. 

Outside the building, though, it was totally different. The dorm was situated on a narrow, twisting alley only steps from a sun-drenched piazza filled with bustling tourists and tiny café tables. Tall buildings lined the square, adorned with wrought-iron balconies and red tile roofs, and each one older than anything that California had to offer.

"Students," called the mousy-looking professor who was leading the program. She clapped her hands and the silver bracelets on her wrists jangled loudly. "Students, over here please! Our tour of Rome will begin in a few moments."

Connor followed her to where the tour bus was parked, not paying much attention to what she was saying.

A group of squealing kids ran by in Catholic school uniforms, and Connor smiled. On the far side of the square, a bar was decked with neon signs for beers he'd never tasted. A bakery window was filled with sweets that looked more like something from a movie than something you'd actually eat. And everywhere he looked, Connor saw gorgeous girls. The Italian girls all wore tight capri pants and high heels, with too much eye makeup; the girl sitting at a café table near the tour bus was much more his style. She was dressed casually in faded khaki pants and a simple blue shirt, but her clothes clung to her curvy frame in just the right places, and her hair hung down her back in a shining brown curtain. She looked up and caught his eye, and Connor smiled at her. She probably wouldn't want to have anything to do with him, but for a second he thought about skipping out on the tour anyway, just to find out.

His thoughts must've showed on his face, because the girl smiled at him. looking amused the way that the girls back home used to look in eighth grade when he'd been trying to show off on his skateboard. iOr the way they would've, if that had actually happened/i, he thought bitterly. Suddenly, ditching out on the tour sounded like an even better idea. The farther away he could get from his old life -- either of them, or both -- the better. He'd grab the girl, and… He looked back at the girl, but she was gone.

Resigned, he walked toward the bus and climbed in. At the top of the stairs, he stopped. Sitting there in the first row of seats, talking to his gray-haired professor, was the girl he'd seen outside. She looked at him with the same amused look on her face, and he quickly remembered himself. The seat across the aisle from where she was sitting was empty, so he slid in.

As they sat there, Connor wondered who she was. He tried to listen to her conversation with the professor, but he couldn't make it out over the din of the other students' conversation. They were definitely speaking English, though. That was good. Connor's Italian was definitely still in the 'beginner' stages, so this way they'd have more to talk about on their date.

Connor smiled to himself. He hadn't even said two words to this girl, and he was already planning for their date. The city was filled with pretty girls. Why was he all worried about this one? Still, there was no denying that there was something special about this girl. He couldn't define it, but she had a certain something… Something about the way she carried herself, the way she seemed so alert, so aware… Well, that and the fact that the girl was undeniably hot.

"Students." Professor Strathmore was standing at the front of the bus now, and the girl was standing with her. "Pay attention, please!" She clapped her hands, and her bracelets jingled again. "This is Dawn, and she will be our guide today, on your introduction to the city that will be your home for the next three months."

_Dawn_. Connor repeated her name in his head, so he would remember it.

..o0O0o..

The tour stopped at the Coliseum to let everyone get out and explore, and the guy from the front row approached her. Dawn wasn't really surprised. After all, he'd been staring at her for pretty much the entire tour so far. She didn't mind so much -- it was a little distracting, but then he was cute.

She was standing near the entrance to the Coliseum floor, where the gladiators had fought each other thousands of years before, at the end of a long tunnel. He came up from behind her, and she heard his footsteps crunch on the sand as he approached. He stood next to her for a moment, looking at the tiers of white marble around them and at his classmates as they explored the enormous structure.

"Dawn, right?" he asked finally.

"Yep," she said, content to let him speak. She got hit on a lot in this job, but it wasn't always a bad thing. And this guy was standing in direct sunlight and not turning into a little pile of dust, which was always a big plus.

"I'm Connor," he said, extending his hand to shake. She shook his hand, which was big and firm, and somewhat more callused than she would've expected for a college kid.

"Could I take you out to dinner sometime?" he asked.

She smiled up at him, squinting a little bit in the direct light. "Prefer the direct approach?" she asked teasingly, intentionally not answering his question.

He shrugged, and raised one corner of his mouth in a crooked smile. "We have to get back on the bus in a minute," he said.

She adjusted the pink ribbon of her watch and looked at the dial. "You're right." She turned and walked back down the tunnel, and after a moment's hesitation, he followed her.

He didn't say anything while they walked through the tunnel, and neither did she. She considered his request instead. She was busy now, with the tour guide work in addition to the research she was doing for Giles, and the occasional all-night research session for Buffy. Plus she was still hoping to gain access to the library at the Società Quinquatria, which would take up even more time. There wasn't a lot of room for dating in between all that stuff.

She snuck a look at him from the corner of her eye. He was tall and kind of wiry, and his brown hair fell in his eyes. His face was good-looking, but really he was nothing to write home about in terms of looks. There was still something about him that attracted her, though, something that made her feel like this guy was different. Maybe it was the way her skin tingled all over when he stood close to her, or maybe it was something in his eyes that made her think he was a little more aware of the _real_ world around him than most people, or maybe it was something else.

She couldn't be sure what it was, but she reached in her purse anyway and pulled out a little slip of paper and a pencil. In an unsteady hand, she scribbled her phone number on it as she walked, and beneath that, her name: _Dawn_. No last name, no extra explanation. She was just Dawn.

When they reached the bus, she folded the little piece of paper in half and handed it to him. "Dinner would be good," she said. "This weekend, maybe?"

He smiled at her then, not the funny little half-smile he'd had on his face before, but a full-wattage grin that lit up his whole face. "Sounds great," he said. He reached out to take the slip of paper from her, and as his fingers brushed hers she felt a jolt of electricity travel up her arm and down her spine. He must've felt it too, because she saw a surprised look crossed his face. He didn't say anything, though: just tucked the paper into his pocket and smiled.

"I'll call you," he said.

..o0O0o..

After the tour was over, Dawn rode the bus back to the touring company with the driver and picked up her paycheck. It was not large, but it was only her second paycheck of any kind, and so she cashed it right away. Then, her pockets full of money, she wandered down the main streets in the general direction of the apartment she shared with Buffy, looking in the windows of the shops along the way.

She lingered over a cute skirt that looked as though it had been made from a silk scarf, and passed by a display of glittering bracelets and earrings. There was a time when she would've slipped one or two of them inside her purse and walked away with them, but now, she was content to just admire them in the case.

Just before reaching the apartment, she cut through a small square. On impulse, she bought a copy of Italian _Vogue_ and took a seat underneath a bright green umbrella. A waitress brought her a tiny cup of coffee and Dawn sat watching passers-by and reading her magazine. Whenever she got to a word she didn't know, she circled it in blue pen. When she got home, she would look them up. It was getting to be fewer and fewer words recently, she realized.

"Hey, you."

Dawn looked up in time to see her sister plop down into the chair on the other side of the table. Buffy looked like the stereotypical American girl, with her sunglasses on top of her head and her fluffy blonde hair. She signaled the waitress for a bottle of Perrier and then turned to Dawn with a conspiratorial grin on her face.

"Connor called," she said in a sing-songy voice.

"Yeah?" asked Dawn. She was trying to play it cool for Buffy's benefit, but she couldn't help the corners of her mouth from turning up a little bit.

"Who's Connor?" Buffy asked.

"Mind your own business and drink your overpriced water," Dawn retorted, by now grinning like an idiot.

"I'll have you know this is _premium_ water," Buffy said. "Are you gonna go out with him?"

Dawn thought about the shiver that had run down her spine at the barest touch of Connor's hand earlier. "Mmmm, definitely," she answered.


	3. Dinner Date

The headquarters of the Società were housed in a large building in an old neighborhood-- a large building, but not an enormous one; a nice building, but not a magnificent one. It was almost as though they were trying not to stand out. Of course, Dawn thought, that wasn't too unusual for a library of demonological texts.

She glanced at the building once more before taking a deep breath and going inside.

After the brilliance of the midday sun, the interior of the building was a dark and murky mystery. Dawn let the heavy door close behind her and stood next to it, blinking myopically into the room.

"Can I help you?" asked a woman's voice in Italian, and Dawn turned instinctively toward the sound.

"I'm here to apply for a library card," Dawn said in the same language. Her grasp of Italian was pretty good now --she'd always been good at languages, anyway-- but she'd practiced this phrase the night before for good measure. It was nice to be certain.

"A library card?" the woman repeated, and despite her practice Dawn worried that she'd used the wrong word.

"Erm, to access the books? To-- study?" Great, now she sounded like an illiterate American, exactly what she'd been trying to avoid.

"Well, certainly," the receptionist said with a frosty smile. "Just sign in here on the visitor's ledger, and go on upstairs. You will not require a permit to read the books."

Dawn smiled hesitantly and pulled the ledger toward her. What about the form she'd filled out? And the text she'd read, a fifteenth century book, had specifically mentioned elaborate screening processes. Times _had_ changed since then, but what were the chances? She gave a mental shrug and wrote her name clearly on the line before her.

Looking up from the book, she could see a wide curving staircase rising to the second floor as though it was floating on air. She thanked the woman at the desk absently and began to climb, her feet sinking into the thick carpeting as she went.

The second and third floors were laid out in the shape of a doughnut -- shelves all around the outside held books, but the center was open to the huge atrium that soared from the ground floor up to a graceful dome painted in textured shades of blue. The carpet muffled the sound of footsteps, and the patrons knew better than to raise their voices. Outside, Rome was a bustling metropolis, but the noise of the city stayed outside the walls of the Società.

Dawn saw no signs to indicate which books were where, so she slowly walked through the shelves, examining the books and trying to figure out the organizational system. There were quite a few books on Roman and Italian history, many of them bound in ancient volumes that still managed to maintain their gilt lettering --and of course, there was not a speck of dust anywhere.

Dawn was impressed. It was extremely rare to find such old volumes in such good condition, especially in a location such as this, which had seen so much warfare and destruction. She picked up one especially venerable book and opened the cover reverently, gazing at the hand-illuminated pages, afraid to breathe. The work was so exquisite, it must've taken years to do… Standing there between two shelves, she lost herself in the text for a few moments. Slowly, she came back to herself. She was not here to admire ancient treatises on --she checked the cover-- the construction of underground sewer tunnels. She was here for one reason: demonographies.

She circled the second floor and then the third, making her way up and down each row and every aisle. Nothing. She didn't see one book about demons, or even magic, mysticism, sorcery, or the old gods. It was downright weird. Even the libraries in suburban Cleveland had books on folk superstitions and myth. And this was reputed to be the mother lode of supernatural research -- so why couldn't she find even a single volume?

Checking her watch, Dawn winced inwardly. Her date was in an hour and a half, on the other side of the city, and she still had to shower and change. For a minute she was tempted to just cancel, but then she remembered the way Connor's eyes lit up while they were talking, and the jolt of energy that had passed between them. With a reluctant look at the shelves, she set aside her questions about the Società and headed home.

..o0O0o..

Connor walked through the bustling crowds, his hands jammed deeply in the pockets of his freshly-ironed khakis. His muscles twitched, his fists clenched, and his head felt light: he was nervous. In fact, he couldn't remember the last time he'd been so nervous before a date. There was just something about this girl…

He was a block away from the Spanish Steps, where they'd agreed to meet, when a colorful display caught his eye. Flowers of every variety, every type and size, were jammed into buckets and jars, all competing for his eye.

He looked them over, wondering. Would it be overkill to bring a girl flowers on a first date?

The man behind the buckets stepped forward, wearing an apron and a smile, and pointed eagerly to a dozen red roses. Connor shook his head quickly. Definitely overkill. The flower-seller changed his tactics, pointing to a basin full of bright yellow sunflowers.

"Three for five Euro," he said in heavily accented English.

Connor pictured himself handing the flowers to Dawn, pictured her smile. "What the hell," he said, digging some coins out of his pocket and handing them over. In exchange, the man gave him three large sunflowers, with the stems wrapped neatly in thick paper.

Connor felt a little self-conscious as he carried the huge flowers down the street. Schoolgirls giggled as they passed and old ladies pointed at him. Maybe the flowers were a bit much, he thought, but he couldn't shake the mental image of Dawn's smile at the sight of them. At least, he hoped that would be the response.

The cobblestone street he was on brought him to the top of the broad flight of marble stairs known as the Spanish Steps. As he began to descend the steps, he could see Dawn waiting at the bottom, the last rays of the summer sunset shining off of her hair. She was facing away from him, toward the Piazza and the huge fountain at its center, but as he approached, she turned and glanced up at him.

Her eyes went from his face to the huge yellow sunflowers he carried and then back to his face. Slowly, her mouth widened into a full-wattage smile that seemed to outshine everything else in the huge square. Connor nearly stumbled as he walked down the last few steps to the bottom where she stood.

"These are for you," he said unnecessarily, handing her the thick stems. As she reached out to take them, her fingers brushed his, and just as he had at the arena, Connor felt a jolt of energy pass between them.

If Dawn felt anything, she didn't show it -- but she didn't touch his hand again, either. She took the sunflowers in both hands and turned her face downward toward them.

"Thank you," she said, looking up at Connor briefly. "I love them."

Connor felt a little lightheaded, but at least he knew it hadn't been overkill.

..o0O0o..

Dawn smiled down at the flowers as they walked along. They were big and unwieldy, she didn't know what she would do with them when they got to the restaurant, and people were staring at her as she walked along with them. She loved them.

Connor led her to a tiny bistro on a side street a few blocks away. They were seated at a little round table outside the front door. The sun had set and the sky was a pale shade of purple, quickly fading to dark blue. At the curb, a streetlight sputtered on, lighting a faint corona around the bulb but not illuminating much of the street. Their table was lit by a little candle in a glass jar, and by the light that spilled from the restaurant's window. For the moment, they were the only people sitting in the little area on the edge of the sidewalk.

Dawn held the flowers on her lap for a minute, then grabbed a chair from a nearby table and pulled it up, setting the bouquet on it -- it just didn't seem right to put them on the floor.

She turned to Connor with a smile. "So," she said. "Tell me about yourself." Because she definitely wasn't telling him about her own self, at least not without some heavy editing and outright fabrication. "I'm actually five years old" was not what a guy wanted to hear on the first date.

A weird look crossed Connor's face, but it was gone so fast that Dawn thought she might've imagined it. After a second, he leaned back and started out with, "Well, I just finished my freshman year at Stanford, and Rome seemed like the place to be..."


	4. Surprises

"Tell me about yourself," she said, leaning forward and resting her chin in her hand.

Connor's immediate response was _Maybe dating is not such a good idea_. They were all of twenty minutes into their first date, and already he had to lie to her. On the other hand, this was no different than any other part of his life.

"I just finished my freshman year at Stanford," he said. _Okay, Reilly, all true so far._ "And Rome seemed like the place to be, so..." He grinned at her and she smiled back, waiting for him to go on. It looked like he had no choice. So he took a deep breath and went on, trying to stick to topics that were true and easy to talk about, things that had no connection to infant kidnappings and alternate dimensions and vampires and memory spells. That'd be an easy way to make sure there was no second date -- this girl would think he was insane.

It was sad but true that there was not a lot that happened in his life that was unrelated to the insane, so he mostly stuck to Stanford, and his impressions of Rome to this point. But despite his worry, he soon found his concerns fading away. Dawn was easy to talk to, and she seemed to know a lot about Rome. Of course she would, she was a tour guide.

Italian restaurants were not known for their prompt and efficient service, and Dawn and Connor lingered at the sidewalk table outside the little bistro for hours, first over dinner and then with dessert and little cups of incredibly strong coffee. Their conversation ranged from favorite cheesy movies and sugary breakfast cereals to plans for the future and the expatriate experience, but Connor was relieved that Dawn didn't seem inclined to talk about the past. He had all the memories of a normal happy childhood, but it still pained him to talk about them. Every once in a while, he'd be in the middle of a conversation about He-Man or little league and the realization would hit him like a ton of bricks that all of his experiences were completely fake.

With Dawn, though, none of that seemed to matter. Even though it had initially been her brilliant smile and tall, curvy body that had caught his attention, he found himself drawn in by the sparkle of wit in her eyes and the obvious intelligence behind them.

At long last, their table littered with empty plates and tiny coffee cups, they rose to go. "Can I walk you home?" Connor asked.

"Well sure, but then who will walk _you_ home?" Dawn retorted. It was sort of a joke, he thought. Mostly a joke. But a shadow crossed her face and Connor thought it was also true. But he could handle himself.

"I'll be fine," he said, but she didn't seem reassured. "How about this: next time you can walk me home." It wasn't really good enough, because then she'd be out on the city streets all alone, with creepies and crawlies lurking in every alleyway. But at least it put off the discussion until next time.

"It's a deal," she said, with a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. She extended a hand to shake on their 'deal,' and Connor took it, feeling once again the shiver that seemed to always run through him at her touch. There was something about this girl that was just so _right_; he'd never experienced anything like it.

"My apartment is this way," she said, pointing up the hill. They turned in that direction and walked along slowly. As they walked, Connor let his hand brush against hers and feeling that same thrill run through him each time. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Dawn: her long brown hair shone in the glow of the streetlights, and her soft perfume drifted on the breeze. She was filling up his senses, distracting him in every possible way. Stupid. He was so distracted that he never even noticed the vampires until they were practically within biting distance. Really, really stupid.

..o0O0o..

There were two of them: guys in black jeans and silk shirts. In any other place, Dawn would have picked them out as vampires right away, but Italian men had a strange idea of what was fashionable and what was way out of date. That's what she told herself, anyway. She was confused because of weird Italian fashions, not because she was distracted by Connor and the way his hand kept brushing against hers. Right. That was a good story.

The two guys were almost on top of them before they broke out in full vamp-face and Dawn realized they were in trouble. "Where's a slayer when you need one?" she muttered under her breath, fumbling around in her purse for a stake.

The taller, more Italian-looking vamp grabbed her by the left arm, and started dragging her toward a nearby alley. The other vampire, who looked vaguely American, went for Connor, just as Connor was diving for the first vampire and trying to pull him off of Dawn. Dawn's hand closed around the rough-hewn wood of a stake, just as Connor got a grip on the vampire and sent him flying into the alley.

"What the--?" Dawn looked at Connor for a moment. A normal person could never have -- did he actually _throw_ that vampire into the alley? What on earth was going on here? But just as she was looking at Connor, and Connor was looking back at her with a very strange expression on his face, they were interrupted by the second vampire, who grabbed Connor by the shoulders and pinned him in place, descending toward his neck with fangs out. Connor was struggling against the vampire, but was held pretty firmly in place. Dawn fingered the stake in her hand, still hidden inside of her purse, and made a split second decision.

"Aaaaah!" she screamed, trying to fake the effect of a naive tourist seeing a vampire for the first time. It sounded pretty fake to her ears, but the vampire seemed to buy it when she turned and ran past him into the night.

Or about five yards into the night.

After a short distance, Dawn stopped and turned back, raising the stake in one hand. Connor had managed to pull away from the vampire a little bit, and they were now wrestling face-to-face. Over the vamp's shoulder, she caught Connor's eyes. A surprised look crossed his face quickly, and was gone. The vampire's shoulders shifted, and Dawn realized that Connor was positioning him for her stake. She pulled her arm back and tried not to think about missing the heart, just drove the stake home as hard as she could. Dawn felt the soft resistance of flesh and the scraping of bone as her stake pushed through the vampire's back... and then a sudden release of tension as he disappeared into dust.

All resistance gone, Dawn tumbled forward into Connor's arms. They were warm and strong around her, and for a moment she just closed her eyes and breathed in the warm boy-smell of him and listened to his heart beat. Heartbeat was a good thing in a boy, Dawn thought. Especially one who could throw vampires like Connor just had.

The memory brought her back to her senses after a moment, and she looked up, meeting his brown eyes with her own. They were both silent for a moment, as if each waiting for the other to speak.

"What was--" Dawn started.

"How did you know--" Connor said at once.

"Maybe we should talk about this somewhere else," Dawn suggested.

Connor laughed awkwardly, but agreed, and they turned and continued up the street toward Dawn's apartment.


End file.
